Be Still My Beating Spark, Percy!
by EclipsedImpala
Summary: I couldn't find the catagory for IDW Transformers, so I put it here. Short and sweet fluff. Drift and Ratchet finally hook up.


"You should tell him," Perceptor slides into the seat next Drift at the bar, tipping his chin at the object of the swordsmechs affection: Chief Medical Officer Ratchet.

Drift tenses as his long time friend speaks and tips his chin. Drift sighs heavily and rests his chin in his palm. Yeah right. As IF. Tell Ratchet. Pfft. "I can't, Percy,"

Perceptor chuckles softly, a rare sound for the scientist/sniper. A sound he only makes around Drift. His best friend. "It would be far better than idly sitting here, gazing longingly, completely smitten, at our good doctor. He looks lonely. You should go over to him and cheer him up. And he always brightens when the two of you interact, you know,"

Another sigh."So what... I just walk on over, flash my best grin and say: 'Hey, Ratchet, I've been in love with you since that day you saved my little gutterwhore addicts aft'?" Drift looks at his fizzy mid-grade and stirs the pinkish liquid with a straw. A straw. Of all things. He hates straws. Swerve probably sticks them in his drink for the Pit of it. Just to irk him.

Perceptor growls and grabs Drift's chin, turning Drift's helm to face him. "You've been talking to Rodimus again, haven't you?" The sniper practically spits the Captain's name out. "What have I told you about referring to yourself like that. It is most unacceptable, Drift. And on top of that, you know that neither I or Ratchet think of you in that manner. So, in answer to your...question, something to that affect, yes. I'm telling you, Drift, Ratchet feels the same way." Perceptor softly rubs the speedster's cheek with his thumb, much to Drift's embarrassment, if the pink finials are anything to go by. The scientist, however, is immensely amused and chuckles again.

Ratchet hasn't been able to keep his optics off of Drift the entire night. Though one would never know from his damn fine job of avoiding the speedster's optics though. Fraggin' pain in his aft that one. He plucks the stupid straw Swerve stuck in his drink out and flicks it across the bar, smirking as it bounces off of the barkeep's back.

"Ratchet, why don't you just go talk to him? Tell him how you feel? It's obvious Drift likes you. I noticed it all the way back on Delphi, ya know," First Aid giggles and elbows his mentor softly. "We all know too. Matter of fact, Smokescreen is taking bets on it being the reason you're always so grumpy,"

"Back on Delphi my shiny Red aft!" Ratchet grouses at the younger medic. "I'm grumpy because I have to deal with idiots who require medical attention from being idiots. Delphi... Pfft! How would you know anyway? You were far too busy ogling Fort Max to notice Drift and I,"

First Aid blushes brightly under his face mask and laughs."Well, at least Max and I had the courage to confess our undying love to one another. Unlike the two of you." Aid smirks and tips his chin in the direction of Drift, who is currently getting his cheeks rubbed by a certain sniper.

Which, unfortunately, Ratchet notices and takes the wrong way. He downs the last of his engex and stands up. "Yeah, well, love requires two interested parties," Ratchet turns and heads for the door.

"Ratchet! Hey..." First Aid frowns and shakes his helm. "Stubborn old fragger,"

Perceptor doesn't miss Ratchet taking his leave. Perfect! "Get up, Drift. We're leaving," The sniper stands and hauls the swordsmech to his feet, his optics briefly meeting First Aid's, whose visor brightens.

"Huh? What? Why? Ow! What's gotten into you, Percy?" Drift stumbles and sways a bit as the larger mech hauls him to his pedes.

In silent understanding, First Aid leaps to his pedes and rushes after Ratchet, coming to a stop in front of his boss. "Ratchet, wait. Let me buy you another drink. Please?"

Ratchet comes to an abrupt stop as First Aid cuts off his exit. "Weren't you just..." Ratchet starts to turn his helm back to the bar when First Aid grabs his shoulder. "Aid? What are you doing?"

First Aid giggles and smirks under his mask. "You said love. You love Drift, Ratchet,"

Be damned if that fragger isn't grinning like a fool under that blasted mask of his. Ratchet feels his cheeks flush with heat, no doubt turning a bright red and it isn't all because of the engex."Pfft... I most certainly did not!"

"Oh yes you did!" First Aid is beyond giddy now, bouncing from pede to pede. He watches out of the corner of his visor as Perceptor starts pushing Drift backwards towards Ratchet.

Perceptor gently grabs Drift's hips and starts to push him backwards. "Nothing has gotten into me, Drift. I just think that you need to be far more aggressive in your pursuit of our Chief Medical Officer,"

Drift gasps, "P-Perceptor!"

Perceptor smirks and gently pushes Drift.

Right into Ratchet.

And then he takes off.

First Aid watches as Perceptor pushes Drift and quickly turns Ratchet so that the grumpy ambulance will be perfectly poised to accept the falling speedster with open arms. Genius. His work done, Aid skips after Perceptor to buy him a drink.

Ratchet growls as he's turned, about to shoot First Aid a deadly glare when he ends up with an armful of flailing swordsmech.

Drift flails as he's pushed and ends up in Ratchet's arms, their bellies pressed together, one of Drift's arms around one of Ratchet's strong shoulders, his other hand flat against Ratchet's beautiful chest glass, and Ratchet's hands...oh my...oh those hands feel so good...well they ARE squeezing his hips! Drift feels his finials heat up, no doubt turning an embarrassing shade of pink, and his spark tighten. He looks up into Ratchet's gorgeous face and smiles bashfully. "H-Hi , R-Ratch,"

By the Matrix Drift is gorgeous. Beautiful. Perfect. Breathtakingly so. And oh... Drift's hands are on his chest and shoulder. And Ratchet's hands, heh, well , they're on those oh so nice hips. Those beautiful hips. His hands. Are on Drift's luscious hips... "H-Hey, kid," His spark swells with warmth and all Ratchet can think about is pressing his lips to Drift's.

Kiss me, Ratchet. Please. Oh please, please, PRIMUS PLEASE, RATCHET! Drift keeps his completely love struck gaze locked on Ratchet's optics and swallows nervously, his entire frame trembling.

Ratchet grins, his spark hammering, leans down and presses his lips to Drift's.

Drift squeaks when their lips meet, awkwardly kissing Ratchet back,his field humming with joy/love/pleasure/let me not frag this up.

Ratchet pulls Drift closer, smiling at the squeak and little whimper that follows when Drift finds his rhythm and wraps his arms around Ratchet's neck.

The moment the two finally kiss, Swerve's erupts in a raucous round of applause.

Not that Ratchet and Drift noticed, though. ;)


End file.
